


Hate and Love with Bucky Barnes

by worrisomeme



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Light Sexual Content, mostly - Freeform, mostly just making out and getting handsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 21:56:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10558330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrisomeme/pseuds/worrisomeme
Summary: Your heart races as you approach Avengers Tower. After training for months, almost an entire year actually, privately with Natasha, you’re finally joining the ranks. You know you’re ready for this. There’s a reason she chose you, after all. But the doubt still creeps up in your mind, steals your breath, makes your hands shake. After all, you don’t have a suit, like Stark or Falcon. You’re not a mutant like the Maximoffs, not super powered like Cap or Peter or Thor.But Natasha had chosen you - you personally - for a reason. Right?Okay, so maybe that reason had been you hacking into Avengers Tower on multiple occasions. You and FRIDAY are even getting real chummy by now. Nat had laughed about it. Stark had been… decidedly less amused. The redhead had complimented your skills, both with computers and the “rudimentary” fighting skills you possessed, and assured you that when she was done, you’d be able to take down Cap himself. Not that you’d need to.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiaraaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiaraaine/gifts).



> For the lovely wonderful super awesome [kiaraaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiaraaine) ^_^ I hope you like it!! Thanks so much for letting me write/share it and I hope everyone else enjoys it just as much!!<3 <3 <3

Your heart races as you approach Avengers Tower. After training for months, almost an entire year actually, privately with Natasha, you’re finally joining the ranks. You know you’re ready for this. There’s a reason she chose you, after all. But the doubt still creeps up in your mind, steals your breath, makes your hands shake. After all, you don’t have a suit, like Stark or Falcon. You’re not a mutant like the Maximoffs, not super powered like Cap or Peter or Thor.

But Natasha had chosen you - you personally - for a reason. Right?

Okay, so maybe that reason had been you hacking into Avengers Tower on multiple occasions. You and FRIDAY are even getting real chummy by now. Nat had laughed about it. Stark had been… decidedly less amused. The redhead had complimented your skills, both with computers and the “rudimentary” fighting skills you possessed, and assured you that when she was done, you’d be able to take down Cap himself. Not that you’d need to.

_“Cap’s the sweetest,” she’d told you one day as you were cooling down post-workout. “He’ll probably be the first friend you make.”_

“Good morning,” FRIDAY chimes, and it shakes you out of your own head. How long have you been standing there, stuck like a statue in front of the doors? “It’s nice to finally see you in an official capacity,” she teases.

“I would say the same,” you tease right back, “ _if_ I could see you.”

“Would you like me to project my hologram form for you?” the AI asks as she… it? She lets you into the building.

“That won’t be necessary,” Natasha cuts in, a smirk on her lips as she eyes you, empty-handed. All of your belongings have already been transferred from the training compound, or so you’d been assured. Though you had shown up in sparring gear – a pair of leggings and a sports bra under a baggy sweater – as she’d recommended. “Thank you FRIDAY.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumble, feeling your chest tighten now that you’re inside the building. You can’t believe it, you’re actually here. For almost a near now you’d been talking about this, but it never felt real, never felt like… well, like a _Thing_ that was Actually Going To Happen.

“It’s good to see you kiddo,” Tasha laughs, pulling you into a hug.

“You too,” you reply with a nervous chuckle. “And, hey, I’m not that much younger than you. I’m definitely not as young as Wanda or Parker or anything.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give you that,” she laughs again, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as she leads you to the elevator. “So I figured I’d show you to your place first, and then we can find some food.”

“Sounds good to me,” you smile at her, leaning into her side. Her familiar presence has a calming effect as you ride the elevator up, up, up. Vaguely you wonder just how damn tall this building is, and just how many super heroes it’s housing.

The rooms are nearly at the top, you remember Natasha telling you. Just below the common room and gym. _Oh, and the swimming pool_ , she’d added, looking thoroughly unamused. _That one’s new._ You wonder if there’s a hot tub, too. You’re probably going to need it once you start training with the big guys.

When the elevator lets you out on your floor, it totally blows your mind. It’s split in half, two apartments to a floor. _Way_ more room than you’re used to, more than you even know what to do with. Your meager belongings only take up a small corner of the living room and you can only imagine how little of the closet you’ll need.

“Don’t worry,” Nat muses. “You’ll end up with all kinds of fun things. Promise.” She makes her way through the apartment, picking through boxes and vaguely helping you sort where they go. Which room they belong in, at least.

The thought crosses your mind to unpack, your clothes if nothing else. But your stomach growls and that’s all it takes for it to win out. Future you may be annoyed, but you’ll make do. Even if that means digging through boxes and flinging clothes all over the floor to find your pajamas.

“So… food?” you ask from where you’re leaning against the arm of the couch, flashing a hopeful grin.

“Absolutely,” Nat laughs, holding a hand out to you. “You have access to all of the public spaces any time you want, and Stark pays for living expenses and shit so go shopping whenever. For whatever you want,” she informs you as you get back on the elevator, a mischievous grin on her face. “FRIDAY keeps the kitchen in the common room pretty well stocked, and take-out is available whenever too. Like, seriously, any time. One of the perks of being an Avenger.”

You’re giggling as the doors open on the common room. A whole floor filled with chairs and couches, a giant projector screen taking up an entire wall, a huge open kitchen in the back corner with an island. The shades are raised on the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows, giving way to the most stunning view of New York City you’ve ever seen. The light barely even dims the projector. Of course. Only the best for Tony Stark.

It’s nearly vacant, and you’re almost too amazed by the room itself to be star-struck over the people in it. Almost. Steve Rogers himself is relaxing on a couch with a very intimidating-looking Winter Soldier. (Seriously, even relaxing he looks a little scary. You get it, you do, you’ve heard the stories. But still.) They’re watching some weird movie that looks like it must be from the 60’s or something and you almost laugh at the typicality of it. Then there’s Clint Barton, Hawkeye, perched on the island in the kitchen, his mouth stuffed with food and a pizza box flipped open on the counter next to him as he kind of half-watches whatever Cap and Barnes have on.

“Hey!” he shouts and gives a wave, a shit-eating grin on his face and crust crumbs spilling from his lips as he does. Gross. Your face scrunches up instinctively even as you wave back.

“Don’t mind him,” Natasha rolls her eyes fondly as she leads you toward the kitchen. “He was raised in a circus. He doesn’t know how to interact with normal people.”

“Who’re you callin’ normal?” he asks her, mouth empty now thankfully. “Cuz I _know_ you’re not talking about yourself.”

Laughing, she tugs one of the hearing aids from his ear playfully and drops it into his lap. “Not talkin’ about you,” she quips back, signing as she goes.

Natasha had started working on languages with you back at the training compound, and you’re doing okay, really, but definitely not great. You’re just having a little trouble memorizing all that vocab, that’s all.

“Now that’s not very nice,” comes the deep, smooth, soothing voice of Steve Rogers from behind you both, a chuckle in his tone.

You spin on your heel, heart racing and smiling from ear to ear. “Captain,” you say, unconsciously straightening your posture in his presence, holding a hand out to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he says with an easy grin. “But, please, call me Steve.”

“Alright Steve,” you reply, relaxing just a little as you give him your name.

“So now that you’ve met my two favorite boys,” Nat starts, nudging a paper plate at you. “Have some pizza. Where’s everyone else?”

“Around,” Steve shrugs a little, slipping past you for his own slice. “I think Tony’s upstairs warming up with Rhodey and Sam.”

Nat gives a thoughtful little nod and leans against the counter.

“So did you ladies have any plans for the evening?” Steve asks.

“Ladies,” Clint snickers behind them, prompting a glare from Steve and Tasha. There’s no heat behind the glares, though, and you think he probably does this a lot.

You’re still in too much awe for something like that though. Especially now, seeing them banter and joke like normal people. It’s easy to forget they’re normal people when all you ever see of them is press conferences and the fight footage they air on the news. It’s going to take a while for the thought to really settle in your brain.

“We’re taking it easy for the first day,” Natasha says, shifting her attention back to the Captain. “Figured I’d just let her get used to everything. You remember how it is.”

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” comes FRIDAY’s voice from the ceiling. “Mister Stark has requested, and I quote,” and then a clip of Tony Stark’s voice starts playing, “FRIDAY, get Nat to send the newbie up here. I wanna see what she’s made of.”

“FRIDAY, tell _Mister Stark_ he can kiss my ass,” Nat replies without so much as flinching, grabbing another slice of pizza.

“Gotcha Boss,” FRIDAY chimes.

“Can you talk to him that way?” you ask, giggling, as you grab another slice as well. “I mean, he _does_ pay for everything.”

“If I don’t, then he gets an ego. And we can’t have that, now can we?” she jokes, motioning for everyone to follow her back toward the couches.

Even Clint hops off the counter as you all follow, Steve reclaiming his seat next to his friend and Natasha and Clint taking another couch with you. You’re almost through the rest of the movie (The Dirty Dozen, Steve had announced happily) when Tony Stark himself barges into the room.

“Natalie!” he calls with a pout. He’s still got the gauntlets and boots on from his suit, but you just can’t be intimidated by him with that look on his face and that whine in his voice. “I told you to send the newbie up!” His eyes skim over the group of you huddled on the couches and stops when they meet yours. You blush instantly.

“Oh, were you talking to me?” Natasha quips, not even bothering to look over at him. You notice the telltale twitch in her temple, though, the clench in her jaw. She hates it when he calls her that, brings up the espionage that was a necessary evil when the Avengers was first being formed. She’d laid her past out for you from day one and swore she would never lie to you. You trusted her instantly.

He glares at her, pout still firmly in place, and it kind of reminds you of a petulant child. You glance back and forth between him and Natasha and find yourself kind of wanting to go up and spar with him despite yourself. You bet you could kick his ass. Yeah, probably. And anyway, what else were you going to do all day? Watch movies? Nah. You’re here to be an Avenger.

“I told you she had to show us all what she’s made of. To see if she’s worthy. She’s not even battle tested yet, come on.” He’s full on whining now.

“I trained her. That should be enough.”

“She has a point,” Steve chimes, and Bucky nods in agreement next to him before they fist bump. God above they actually fucking fist bump.

“Oh come on Cap, you can’t seriously tell me you’re not even a little bit curious,” Tony crosses his arms over his chest.

“Whether I’m curious or not, it doesn’t have to be today. Let her get settled in. This is a big adjustment,” he retorts.

“I _still_ don’t think Scott’s adjusted yet. How long’s he been here?” Bucky jokes. Well, you think anyway. It’s hard to tell when he barely breaks monotone.

There’s gotta be more to him than this. The footage of Sergeant Barnes you’d grown up watching… well, he has to still be a part of the man in front of you, right? Maybe it’s just because you’re new. You think, under the same circumstances you probably wouldn’t do well with strangers either. Still, you find yourself wanting to crack open that shell and find the man within.

“I’ll do it,” you say, jumping up from the couch, effectively cutting off whatever witty quip or insult Nat was going to sling at Tony next.

“All right newbie! High five!” Tony grins at you but you just raise your eyebrows at him.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Tasha assures you, standing up and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“That’s okay,” you turn and smile at her. “I want to. It’ll be fun.”

She chuckles and shakes her head at you. “Alright then, if you want to.”

Everyone, naturally curious, follows as Tony leads you up to the sparring room. You tug off your sweater and start stretching first thing. Sam and Rhodey are in the ring already anyway, going at it bare-handed. There’s enough room to be fighting in full suit, really, but the first thing Nat had taught you is that sometimes tech fails, sometimes it breaks, sometimes you lose it, and when that happens you have to be able to take care of yourself without it. Especially those of you that aren’t super powered.

It’s amazing watching Sam and Rhodey fight in person like this, a whole different world from watching recordings. Naturally, Nat had been teaching you to read fighting styles. But that was nothing like this, just like it would be completely different from having to do it in the middle of a life or death fight, maybe with an enemy you’d never even heard of before.

Oh yeah, this is going to be fun.

Rhodey finally pins Sam, his forearm pressed to his throat. But they’re both chuckling as he hops up, holding a hand out for the other man.

“You’re getting rusty,” he teases him.

“I let you win,” Sam insists, shoving him playfully as they climb out of the ring.

“Who’s going up against the newbie?” Tony asks with a grin, grabbing your wrist and holding your arm up. He lets it drop after a second and turns too you. “I mean, I would, but I just don’t think that would be fair, you know?”

Natasha snorts and rolls her eyes behind him as he turns to Clint.

“How about you Barton?” Tony goes on. “You would be easy enough.”

You quirk an eyebrow at Tony, crossing your arms over your chest. Natasha had insisted Tony wasn’t really _that_ bad. That it was mostly a front, and deep down he was a pretty good guy. Maybe you’ve just gotta earn his respect, you think. All of these people seem to have pretty tough shells. They must be worth cracking.

“What? You afraid?” you ask him. It takes all your guts to manage it, but you figure you’re going to have to start believing you’re part of the team – and, more importantly, that you’re _worthy_ to be – sooner or later. So you might as well choose sooner, right?

The rest of the group chuckles as Tony snorts and rolls his eyes. “Little girl,” he says, getting right in your face, “I have gone up against crazy ass aliens and the Manchurian Candidate over here. I’m _not_ afraid of you.”

“Then prove it.” And you’re already walking away from him, climbing into the ring, stretching a little more as you go.

“I’m not taking the gear off,” he warns as he follows you.

“I would be offended if you did.”

“That’s my girl,” Nat mutters under her breath.

“I see why you picked her,” Steve says with a grin and a nudge to Natasha’s shoulder.

Sam and Rhodey are talking shit, trying to rile Tony up, and Bucky is just watching, arms crossed, eyes focused, expression completely unreadable.

“You ready?” Tony asks, slipping easily into a fighting stance.

“Let’s go,” you reply, watching his movements carefully.

You two dance around each other for a couple of moments. He’s a fighter too and he’s clearly analyzing you just as much as you are him. Watch the repulsors, you remind yourself. Those things will fucking hurt.

Alright, alright, he’s not making a move. Time to let go of that pawn, you guess.

You slide forward, aiming for his knees. If you can get him to the ground, you can win this in under a minute. Probably. Maybe. We’ll see.

But he’s too used to fighting with Nat, you guess. He counters, manages to grab you by your hair and pull you up. Shit, he is _not_ holding back. Okay. Two can play at that game. Your foot connects with his crotch and he doubles over, groaning.

“She plays dirty!” he shouts, but everyone is laughing.

“You _did_ pull her hair,” Nat scolds him.

“The bad guys play dirty,” you remind him, stepping forward and landing a solid punch to his jaw.

But of course he won’t go down that easy. No way. He manages to grab your arm as you’re pulling back, swinging you around and throwing you right into the ropes. Unfortunately, you hit the corner instead, your back slamming right into the pole. You let out a low groan as you slide to the floor.

But this is nothing, you try to convince yourself. You’re up again in a fraction of a second and just like that you’re on him. With a flip and a spin you’re curled around his back, legs around his waist as you slide the thin metal string from your waistband and wrap it around his neck. Even managing to get one hand between the string and his throat, you’ll be able to make him pass out like this if he doesn’t tap out first.

“Check,” you say, a smirk on your lips. Your hair, damp with sweat now, is hanging in your face and your breath is coming in quick little pants. You can feel the bruises forming already. But you proved yourself, you won.

Or so you think, right up until the second a repulsor blasts you in the side of the head. The blast has your ears ringing as you get tossed across the ring and into another pole. Your mind wanders again to the possibility of a hot tub on the floor with the pool. Even just a hot bath would do at this point. Damn.

“Check,” he spits the word right back at you, the most smug grin on his face you think you’ve ever seen.

A growl tears itself from your throat this time as you drag yourself to your feet and throw yourself on him again. This time you manage to catch him by surprise and tackle him to the floor. Straddling his waist, you get a few good hits in and he manages to get you into a headlock, even from this weird position, and get a few of his own.

You wiggle your head free and start swinging again the second you can. He lifts a hand in attempt to blast you again, but you’re quicker. You’ve got the tip of a knife from your boot pressed to his jugular before he can even really think about it and he stops instantly.

“Checkmate,” you growl, panting heavily as you press the blade in just slightly, just enough to nick him, before dropping it and collapsing to the side in a heap. Your ear is still fucking ringing. Maybe you should have sliced him just a _tiny_ little bit more.

“Shit,” Sam mumbles. Everyone else is silent as they absorb the fight they just watched. Tony still hasn’t moved from where you had him pinned on the mat.

“Did I do good boss?” you ask breathlessly. When you tip your head back to glance at her, Natasha is grinning from ear to ear.

“Very good,” she laughs, walking over and holding a hand out to help you up. “Shut him right the fuck up.”

You can’t help but grin, more proud of yourself than you’ve been in a _long_ time, as you take her hand and pull yourself up.

“So,” you say, groaning as you lean on her just a little, “does that pool have a hot tub?”

 

*

 

The pool does, in fact, have a hot tub. And you’ve never been more grateful for the damn invention as you are right now, up to your chest in the warm, bubbling water. The only reason you’re not chin-deep is because you need your arms out to hold the takeout you’re shoveling into your mouth. It had only been a day and you’d already forgotten how hungry training had made you. Geez.

Natasha’s next to you, inhaling her food even faster than you. She’d gone up against Steve once you and Tony had cleared the mat.

“Thank god for takeout,” she mumbles, tipping her head back momentarily.

“Thank god for hot tubs,” you reply, mimicking the gesture.

You both laugh at that, smiles on your faces as you glance to each other.

“Ain’t that the truth,” she says, shaking her head a little.

“Mind if we join you?” Steve asks, stepping off the elevator in nothing but his swim trunks.

Bucky follows and the sight takes your breath away. All those rippling muscles, the exposed metal arm, even those beautiful scars dancing across his chest. You find yourself wanting to kiss every one, to trace them with your fingers, and then your lips, maybe your tongue. His hair hangs loose, just down to the tops of his shoulders, and just a little scruff dusting his jaw, those _blue_ fucking eyes. Yeah, you definitely forget to breathe for a minute there. You thought you had the hots for him in his uniform on the TV, then again in his tank and sweatpants earlier, but those are _nothing_ compared to this.

Natasha nudges you under the water with her leg against yours, giggling under her breath. Shit, how long had you been staring?

Couldn’t have been too long, neither of the men have seemed to notice you ogling the brunet.

“Not at all,” you reply quickly, smiling up at them. “But you’ve gotta get your own Chinese. I am _not_ sharing,” you joke, faking nonchalance.

“Not a problem,” Steve laughs as they settle in the water across from you and Nat.

“That was a good fight earlier,” Bucky says with a little nod, a small smile forming on his lips and more emotion in his voice than you’ve heard all day (not that that’s _really_ saying much. But still, you’ll take it).

Maybe then, you think, all you really had to do was get Steve to like you. Or maybe it was the fact that you kicked Tony Stark’s ass.

 _Both_ , you think. _Probably both._

“Thanks,” you reply with a shy smile, thankful you’re already flushed from the hot water. “It’s all Tasha,” you laugh, nudging her playfully.

“No way,” she insists around a mouthful of food, shaking her head. “That was all you. I just taught you how to hone the skills you already had. You should see this girl with a computer, jesus.”

“I’ve heard the stories,” Steve says, laughing, as he stretches out a little.

“If by stories you mean Stark’s incessant bitching,” Bucky snorts, eyes closed and head tipped back. You let yourself stare at the expanse of his neck, just for a moment, let yourself dream of crawling into his lap and kissing along his collarbone, marking all that exposed skin.

 _Geez_ , you scold yourself. _Cool it._ Where is all this coming from?

“He’s just jealous,” you joke, a smirk playing on your lips as you put all your energy into playing it cool.

“I like her,” Bucky says playfully, still not lifting his head or opening his eyes. The image of crawling into his lap flashes through your mind once again, however briefly. “Where’d you find her?”

“Breaking into our mainframe,” Natasha muses, grinning as she glances at you. The second your eyes meet you can tell she’s reading you like a book. Large print, easy on the eyes.

“I wasn’t gonna steal any intel or anything. I just wanted to see if I could,” you explain with a little shrug. Then that smirk tugs at your lips again as you at least have the decency to look somewhat sheepish. “Six times.”

All three of them bust out laughing and you can’t help but feeling a little proud of yourself. Here you are, an Avenger. Making other Avengers crack up no less. Oh yeah, this is the big time. This is what success feels like.

 

*

 

As you had anticipated, you curse your past self as it takes fifteen minutes of digging through boxes before you find a pair of PJs and a t-shirt. It’s vaguely reminiscent of the twenty minutes you’d spent cursing your past self as you dug for your bathing suit earlier.

But even after all that and the fighting from earlier, you still find yourself too wired to go to bed. You try to read but you just can’t focus, and even watching TV feels too quiet in this huge room. But someone’s bound to be up in the common room, right? With so many people in the building, you like your odds. Maybe you’ll even get to meet someone new like Wanda or Bruce. After all, it’s not like you’d had a meeting earlier to introduce you to everyone.

Much to your dismay, and against all odds, when you make it up to the common room it’s empty. Well you’re not going back downstairs now.

You flop down onto the couch and stretch out, flicking on the television and clicking through channels. What time is it, anyway? There isn’t shit on.

“FRIDAY?” you ask, vaguely glancing up toward the ceiling. “We get Netflix here, right?”

“Better,” FRIDAY replies, sounding downright delighted. As much as an AI can, you guess. Maybe a little bit proud, too. “Here, you have access to any movie or TV show ever made. Basically.”

“Damn,” you mutter, draping yourself over the armrest. “Should have hacked into the media storage I guess.”

“Well now you don’t have to,” comes the voice, making you jump. It’s starting to become familiar now, that growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine every time. “Couldn’t sleep?” Bucky asks you, stopping in front of the couch.

You scramble to sit up, pulling your legs in to make room for him on the other side as you try to reign it in, to play it off, play it cool.  “Too riled up, I guess,” you say with a shrug.

You struggle with what you want to say next. You too? No, that’s stupid. Of course he can’t sleep, with what he’s been through. I can’t imagine you sleep much? Now that just sounds crass.

Instead you settle on, “You either, I guess.” Right in the middle. Not too bad, right? Well, it’s out of your mouth now either way.

Bucky snorts from where he’s slouched at the other end of the couch. “I don’t sleep much,” he says.

There’s a long beat, then you let out a thoughtful little hum and say, “No, I can’t imagine anyone would… after… well…” _Oh look, and all that careful planning just went out the window_ , you scold yourself. _Great job doofus_.

But Bucky laughs, actually laughs, and shakes his head. “You know,” he mutters, looking over to you, “you’re now one of a very small group of people who haven’t babied me about my past. Even Stevie does it most of the time.”

You let out a nervous giggle as you look back at him. Well, that went a lot better than you were expecting. “I guess I’ve been spending too much time with Tasha.”

And then he laughs harder. “I guess so.” When his laughter dies down he leans over and rests his metal hand on your knee. “Thanks,” he says, sincere now as he catches your eye. You get lost in those storm cloud eyes instantly and your heart’s racing faster with every beat. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Any time,” you reply, smile softening as you rest a hand over his. You look down, laughing when you realize what you just did. “Can you actually feel that?” you ask.

There are rumors, of course there are, that the Winter Soldier’s prosthetic is so advanced it can feel just like a flesh and bone arm can. And, of course, you don’t doubt that the technology exists, or that Stark has seriously upgraded his arm from whatever clunky death trap Hydra had him strapped to. But still. Did Tony really care _that_ much?

Bucky chuckles as his own gaze shifts toward your hand over his, wiggling his fingers a little. “Yeah,” he says. “Not perfectly or anything, but it’s pretty awesome. Helps with the whole phantom limb thing.”

“I bet,” you mutter, eyes tracing up the expanse of his arm, taking in every perfectly interlocked metal plate.

It ignites the engineer in you, makes your fingers twitch, ache to run along that smooth metal and tinker in the innermost workings, the gears and cogs and grease in it. _I wonder if I could hack it,_ that part of your brain chimes in (most unhelpfully, if you do say so yourself). You can hear the faint whir of it all as he finally pulls his hand back.

“So, what do you recommend we watch?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Something from this decade,” you tease, lips quirking up into that smirk. “Please.”

“Deal,” Bucky replies, laughing.

 

*

 

Over the next weeks, your wicked insomnia gives you plenty of alone time with Bucky and you two grow closer than you ever would have dared to dream. On good nights he tells you stories of Steve from the 30’s and 40’s, tugs you off the couch and teaches you how to swing dance. On good nights you fall asleep tucked into his arms on the couch.

Some nights Steve or Natasha will join you, sometimes both. Sometimes it’s others. Late nights are how you meet Doctor Banner and Wanda Maximoff. “Pietro burns too much energy to not be able to sleep,” she says one night, her laughter not quite making it all the way to her eyes. Some nights Tony will wander in, see that you’re up, and mumble about joining him in his lab. That’s always a treat. Really, it is. But most nights it’s just you and Bucky.

And on bad nights… Well, those are quiet nights. You curl up in your corner of the couch and he sulks in his, the TV the only thing breaking the deafening silence. The jokes all fall flat on those nights. On those nights, you’re even too tired to bitch at the TV about just how unfunny all those stupid writers are. It’s better that way, you think. You wouldn’t really mean it, anyway.

And, really, you’re lucky. There have been more good nights than bad, honestly there have. But you’re starting to get anxious. You joined the Avengers to make a difference, to do some good. And you knew it wasn’t like there was some crazy alien attack or super villain every other day or anything like that. And you’re grateful for that, you really are. That would be too much for _anyone_ to handle. And you’re grateful for the chance to get to know your teammates under such light conditions, to become friends and train with them and learn to trust them. But still, you still haven’t been out on a single mission yet, not even recon, and it’s making you question if they really even need you at all.

Until finally, _finally_ the day comes.

You’re sitting in your room (which has finally been completely unpacked), book balanced on your knees as your eyes skim the pages.

“Hey kiddo,” Tony’s voice chimes from the ceiling. “Your time to shine has come. Meet me in the briefing room.”

Steve’s waiting with Tony when you get there, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall.

“I don’t like the idea of her going alone,” he’s arguing.

“It’s a simple op. Hack a computer, get some intel. In and out, easy peasy. She’ll be fine.”

It’s then that Cap notices you, relaxes his posture a little. “If you’re not comfortable going alone, I can come with you.” He holds out a StarkPad and you skim it as you take a seat at the table.

“You _can’t_ go,” Tony insists, pointing the screwdriver in his hand at the super soldier. “You’re too big, too conspicuous. It’s gotta be her. Alone.”

Steve sighs heavily, staring Tony down for a long, long moment.

But then you’re suiting up and hopping aboard a quinjet.

 

*

 

You groan as you wake up, rolling over is painful. Surprisingly, not as painful as when you’d passed out, but it still hurts like a bitch. You try to sit up but Steve’s there, a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder as he urges you onto your back once again.

“Stay down soldier,” he tells you, tone soothing. “You’re okay. We’re almost back to the tower already.”

Your head is still spinning a little, so you listen to him without arguing, groaning again as you settle back onto the cot.

“What… What’d you give me?” you ask him, voice a little rough. “It doesn’t hurt like… before.”

Steve chuckles, taking a seat next to your cot once he’s sure you won’t try to get up again. “Nothing,” he tells you. “By now, anyway. But Doctor Cho’s nanobots are amazing, aren’t they? You’re already a little more than half way to healed.”

You hum softly, amused and impressed. You guess nothing is impossible when you’ve got Tony Stark’s money and pull backing you. But then a frown tugs at your lips, embarrassment washes over you. _That was a rookie mistake_ , you scold yourself. You should have been better than that- You _are_ better than that. And it must be written all over your face, because Steve smiles at you and pats your hand lightly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “The important thing is that you’re safe.”

“I shouldn’t’ve-“ you start, cutting off with a frustrated sigh. “It was a- I’m better than that,” is what you finally settle on.

“ _Everyone_ makes mistakes their first time,” Steve comforts you. “Of course they do. You’ve got _no_ experience. That’s why no one goes it alone the first time. That’s why Tony shouldn’t have made you. All the training in the world is still nothing compared to real enemies _really_ trying to kill you.”

You sigh, letting your eyes drift shut. “Who knows?” you ask as the plane lands.

“Just Tony so far,” Steve says, standing and offering you a hand. “Think you can make it to your floor? I can carry you if you need.”

You blush at the thought, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine,” you insist, unsuccessfully hiding a wince and muffling a whimper as you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the cot. You do take his hand, though, using his steadiness and solid weight to pull yourself up. “Thank you though,” you say, hoping the smile you flash him isn’t as pained as you feel.

As the hangar door drops open you suck in a deep breath and let go of Steve’s hand, limping your way down and into the building.

“I’m gonna go try and rest some more,” you tell him, thanking him once again before making your way down to your apartment.

Your palm is pressed against the scanner to the right of the door when you hear the ruckus. The elevator doors open and Bucky flies out, fuming mad. He turns sharply toward your door and his gaze softens the second he sees you standing there, leaning against the wall for support.

“Buck…” you breath, but it’s all you can get out.

He rushes over to you and lifts you into his arms easily, your weight nothing to his metal arm and super soldier strength. You let out a little surprised noise as he presses you back against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms draped over his shoulders. You don’t have time to think, to react, not really, because suddenly his lips are pressed to yours as he holds you securely, like he’s afraid to let you go.

“He should never have made you go alone!” he fumes when he finally breaks the kiss, voice rough with a protectiveness you’ve never seen in him before. But then his voice softens. “I was so worried,” he mutters. And then it’s like a switch flips in his brain and he realizes what he just did. A blush blooms over his cheeks and he sets you back down, taking a step back as his gaze shifts to his feet. “Sorry,” he mumbles. His voice is still low and rough. “Sorry, I should have asked first-“

“Bucky.”

“I should have…. I just-“

“Buck.”

“Just… when I heard.”

“James!” The energy that shout takes is too much, too much for how injured you are. You wince, arm wrapping around your midriff as you let your weight drop back against the wall again.

“Jesus,” he mutters, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around your waist to support you. “C’mon, you need to rest. FRIDAY, can you open the door please?”

On command the door slides open and Bucky helps you inside, setting you down gently on the couch.

“Do you need anything?” he asks. “Food? Water?”

“Bucky,” you insist, blinking up at him, “I was trying to say something out there.” You’re patient, though. He’s probably freaking out more than you are.

“Oh, sorry, sorry,” he mutters, forcing himself to stop pacing and sit next to you on the couch. “What? Are you okay?” he asks again.

“I’m fine,” you say, a pained chuckle escaping your lips. “I just… I liked it.” A blush blooms on your cheeks and you have to look away, look down at your hands fidgeting in your lap.

“What?” Bucky asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“When you kissed me,” you manage, glancing up at him just briefly before your gaze returns to your lap. “You didn’t have to apologize for it. I liked it. If I’d known all I had to do was get hurt for you to kiss me like that I would have done it sooner,” you joke, laughing softly.

He’s staring at you now, brows furrowed, mouth slack as he tries to process what you just said. He closes his mouth, licks his lips, lets out a little hum, opens them, closes again. It’s adorable, really. Finally, he looks up at you and asks, “So, uh…. If I wanted to do it again?”

You blush instantly and it’s your turn to look away. “I wouldn’t stop you, that’s for sure,” you say.

There’s a moment of silence and then he’s reaching his hand out and cupping your chin, tilting your head toward his again as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

You can’t help but smile into the kiss, fighting a wince as you let yourself be bold and crawl into his lap. His teeth nip at your bottom lip gently and you can’t help the little gasp that escapes you. He takes full advantage of your parted lips and slips his tongue into your open mouth, your fingers moving up to tangle in his hair.

He groans into your mouth as you tug gently on those soft, long strands and you echo the sound with a quiet moan of your own, unconsciously grinding your hips down into his just slightly. His arms wrap around your waist and he holds you close as he stands, maneuvering his way to your room.

His lips move to your neck as he lays you down gently, crawling on top of you. It’s a rush, feeling his weight over yours, lightly pressing you into the bed, as he kisses and nips down your neck and across your collarbones. His fresh scruff scratches lightly against your skin as he kisses up the other side of your neck and his lips finally find yours again.

You let your hands wander, feeling down his back, along every toned muscle, then back up his chest. You cup his face gently as he slips his tongue into your mouth again, before tangling your fingers in his hair. You hope he won’t notice their shaking. He moans quietly into your mouth, his metal arm supporting himself as his flesh hand slides slowly and carefully up your thigh, not sure exactly where you’re hurt and not wanting to press on any wounds.

Your legs drop wider open instinctively and your head tips back, a needy little whimper escaping your lips when he grabs your hip, presses kisses to your exposed throat. You can feel his cock, hard in his jeans, pressing against your clothed inner thigh and your whole body trembles. You can hear gears whirring and metal plates shifting in his arm.

“Bucky…” you breath his name, hip pressing up into his hand as you try to get closer, nails scraping along his scalp gently. “God Bucky….”

But he stops suddenly, his eyes wide when you tilt your head to look up at him. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he looks almost horrified as his eyes trail down your body, taking in his hand gripping your hip and the shirt pushed up along your stomach, exposing bruises and minor scrapes.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, still breathless, blush darkening for a whole new reason now.

“I can’t-“ he says, and he’s off of you and off your bed like the touch had burned him. “I can’t, I can’t,” he repeats, more to himself this time. His expression and body language are guarded in a way he hasn’t been with you since your first day in the tower. And, if you’re totally honest with yourself, it hurts.

“What do you mean?” you ask, pushing yourself up to your knees. You straighten your shirt and crawl to the edge of the bed, a hand in your hair ruffling it lightly.

Bucky’s eyes look panicked as they flit around the room, find yours. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then he spins on his heel and he’s pealing out of the bedroom.

“Wait! Bucky!” You jump up and race after him, ignoring the pain that sears through your torso and legs as you do. You can’t hide that wince though. “Don’t a- I told you, I- Bucky, where are you going? We should at least talk about this,” you insist, beg really, as you follow him through the living room and to the front door. “Please!”

You stop in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe as Bucky stops just before the elevator. “Look,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you, “I’m sorry, I really am. I just..” He turns around again as the elevator doors open and he slips inside, muttering, “I can’t,” to himself under his breath over and over again.

And then just like that you’re left confused and alone, cold and still half in your mission gear, standing in your doorway like a fool.

 

*

 

“Hey kiddo,” Steve calls, knocking on your door the next morning. “I brought you some food. FRIDAY says you haven’t left your room since yesterday afternoon. You gotta eat to heal up. C’mon girlie, it’s gonna go cold out here.”

You let out a heavy sigh as you push yourself up off the couch. You had been hoping if you’d ignored him he’d just go away. When you figure that’s not going to happen, you give in and open the door for him.

“Hey,” you say, standing back so he can enter the apartment. “Thanks, I, uh, guess.” You’re not even trying to hide your sulking as you flop back onto the couch. Even the marathon of the ridiculous Ghost Adventures hadn’t been able to cheer you up. It’s still playing even as you don’t really pay much attention to it.

“What’s got you down?” Steve asks as the front door closes behind him. He joins you on the couch, setting the steaming plate of all your favorite breakfast foods on the coffee table. Your stomach growls, but you ignore it. “Still upset over the mission?” he asks. “Cuz I told you, _everyone_ messes up on their –“

“It’s not the mission,” you cut him off, sighing again as you slouch even further into the cushions.

“Then what’s up?” he asks, turning so he’s facing you, looking at your with those earnest, concerned, blue, blue eyes.

You eye him warily, chewing on your lip a little. “I don’t know if this is something I should be talking about with you,” you say after a moment.

“If it’s about lady things, I ain’t afraid to talk about any of that. My ma was a nurse and I grew up around Bucky’s four sisters. You can’t say nothin’ that’ll freak me out, scout’s honor.” Then he holds up two fingers like the scouts do and crosses them over his heart.

It actually makes you giggle, rolling your eyes fondly. Still, though. You’re not sure. Clearly Bucky hadn’t said anything to him (or, at least, he’s really good at faking it), so should you? You continue chewing on your lip as you think about it for another minute.

Finally, though, you let out another heavy sigh and cross your arms over your chest as you say, “Bucky kissed me yesterday.” Steve has been a good friend, and he’s Bucky’s best friend. Maybe you really would rather be talking about this with Nat, but, honestly, Steve will probably be able to give you better advice.

His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline, but before he can say anything you go on, “It actually… uh… it started to, uh.. to heat up, ya know? Like it…” Your cheeks are burning red now and you can’t look him in the eye, but you continue, “Like it was gonna… go further… You know? But then he just hopped off me and kept apologizing and muttering about how he couldn’t.” You sigh one last time as you finish the story.

Steve lets out a little hum, eyes still on you as he takes a brief moment to think. “Well, I can talk to him about it if you want,” he says finally.

“Oh god no,” your blush deepens (something you didn’t think was possible) and you hold your hands up defensively. “I mean, thanks, but no,” you laugh nervously, shaking your head. You kind of get the feeling he’s going to do it anyway.

 

*

 

“He kissed you?!” Natasha asks, eyes widening, as she settles down on your couch with takeout later that day. “And how did _you_ feel about that?”

“I loved it,” you sigh dreamily. “It, uh..” You blush again at the thought of it, of retelling it again, even with her. “It almost… went further. But that’s when he freaked out and left.”

“Whoa, what’s with that sigh?” the redhead teases you, smirking. “Since when do you have real feelings for tall dark and brainwashed?”

“Just because I didn’t talk about it doesn’t mean they weren’t there” You say with a little shrug. “Gotta compartmentalize, right?”

“I thought you might have just been ace and aro,” she replies with a thoughtful little hum.

“Glad to know you put so much thought into my sexuality,” you tease her and both of you giggle at that. “But yeah, no. There’s been someone.”

“Some _one_?” Nat quirks an eyebrow, that smirk growing as your cheeks flush again. “As in… just one? Only once?”

“Well, yeah,” you try to shrug it off. “I mean, just one guy. A couple of times, but not many. We didn’t go out for long.”

“Oh my god, how cute,” she teases, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

“Fuck you Natasha.” You laugh and flip her off as you bat her hand away. “Pass me the fried rice.”

 

*

 

Bucky has been cold for weeks. He avoids you when he can, ignores you when he can’t, and that mask is starting to become too much to bear now that you know what’s underneath it. At first you felt depressed, helpless. You weren’t sure what you’d done, but you’d have done anything to fix it. Anything.

But now? Now it’s just really starting to piss you off. You two clearly had a connection, something sweet and tangible and now he’s just acting like you were never even friends. He won’t even talk to you about it and every day that passes like this, your anger grows.

Everyone who’s in the tower today is all piled in for a sparring session, tournament style. It’s nothing serious, just something fun you guys do once in a while when business is slow (so to speak). Winner gets bragging rights and gets to pick dinner and TV all night.

Oh, and there’s also that ridiculous belt Clint ordered for the last time. Wanda had teased him for watching too many WWF matches. But here they are, and Sam’s the one to beat, the belt having been displayed in his living room right up until FRIDAY had announced for everyone to gather in the gym. Now it sits at the edge of the ring, a trophy waiting to be won.

Bruce, refusing to play, watches on as a mildly amused referee.

Your first fight you go up against Scott and, man, when he’s taking a fight seriously he is surprisingly good. Lucky for you, he doesn’t take this fight seriously and you take him down quickly. Natasha takes Tony down without so much as working up a sweat and you know you’ll be facing her to get into the final match.

The first fight on the other side of the board is Bucky versus Steve and that fight goes on a lot longer. Longing and rage are warring in your chest as you watch. The anger must be contagious because in the end Bucky has Steve tapping out. Sam and Clint face off and with how fast it goes you almost think Clint might have thrown the fight just to not have to go up against Bucky. The way he looks today, you don’t blame him.

Your fight with Natasha is long and familiar and you revel in it. You have to keep on your toes with Nat and it helps get your mind off the ache in your heart. Four rounds in and you finally get an advantage and you think this is probably the first time you’ve ever beat her. You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, burning into your skin as you grin and do a little victory dance around the ring.

Sam almost looks nervous as he climbs into the ring with Bucky. Still, he riles him up like he always does, talking shit and grinning in that way that always gets Cap laughing. You’re almost sad to see him go down in the second round. You had so wanted to take that belt straight from his grubby, smug little fingers.

Oh.

But then… that means… you have to fight Bucky now.

Shit! That’s the first thought that runs through your head. He’s moving like a machine today, more Winter Soldier than Bucky Barnes. But then a grin breaks out on your face and you can’t help but think, _Good._ If he’s being a dick, you don’t have to hold back. And you’ve been needing an outlet for all that anger that’s been building up like pressure beneath your ribs. _Good_ , you think again. _Let’s go._

You don’t have to be looking to know Steve and Natasha exchange glances behind your back. You can feel it. But you don’t really care right now, you really don’t. You thank your past self and your foresight for changing up the placement of all the weapons tucked hidden away on your body. Bucky knew all of them and would have disarmed you within seconds of the fight starting.

Bruce is perceptive and he’s got that nervous edge in his voice when he asks, “You guys ready?”

You and Bucky slip into fighting stance easily, eyes narrowing as they meet. You both give a definitive little nod and that’s all he needs before Banner says, “Have at it then.”

And Bucky’s on you like he’s got thrusters in his shoes and he is _not_ holding back. He gets a few good swings in before you really get your head in the game. Shaking your head to clear it, you throw your arms up and successfully block a few hits.

It feels like hours tick by and you’re getting sick of being on the defensive real quick. On an attempted punch you grab his wrist and use the momentum to swing yourself up, wrapping your legs around his head and flipping him to the ground. As you go down, you finally manage to get in a few hits of your own.

But he’s a super soldier and he’s got sheer strength on you. He shoves you back and you let out a little surprised yelp as your back hits the mat all the way across the ring. He’s straddling you before the room can stop spinning and he’s back to getting in those wicked punches. Ears ringing, arms up, you’re still only blocking about half of the hits.

 _This isn’t working_ , you think desperately. _What would Nat do?_ You start tasting blood and vaguely muse over the split lip you’re sure you’ve got. Maybe a black eye, too. You’ll have to check when this is all over.

You slip a blade from where it’s nestled under the band of your sports bra and now, that metallic taste on your tongue, you don’t even hesitate in reaching down and slicing along the top of Bucky’s thigh. He lets out a hiss and in his moment of surprise you manage to roll over so you’re on top of him now. A grin spreads over your lips as your fists start flying, blade still clutched tightly in the right.

He recovers quickly and manages to roll you over again, and this time his metal hand flies right to your throat. You don’t even have time to suck in a last breath before those fingers are closing around your windpipe. Hard. Before you know it you’re gasping and wheezing, trying to get any little wisp of air you can. You get your blade up to his throat, but you know you won’t do it, aren’t sure you’d have the physical strength even if you would.

The rest of the group is in an uproar now, you can kind of hear it over the pounding in your ears.

“James! That’s enough!” Natasha shouts, falling to her knees next to you and trying to pry his hand off your neck.

“Buck!” Steve rushes over, gripping the brunet’s shoulders, ready to throw him across the room or knock him out if necessary.

But he doesn’t need to, because the switch flips and Bucky’s suddenly realizing what he’s doing. He lets go instantly and practically flings himself across the room, eyes wide as he watches the group hoover over you.

“You okay kid?” Tony asks, looking more terrified than you’ve ever seen him.

You’re choking now, though, your eyes watering as you suck in big gulps of air, your lungs needing and fighting it all at once. Clint helps you sit up and you slump into his arms as Sam strokes your hair back gently.

“You okay?” Bruce asks this time, once your breathing has almost returned to normal.

“Yeah,” you wheeze out, and your voice is hoarse and strangled. You reach a hand up and rub gently over your throat. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” You glance up to try and find Bucky in the crowd, but he’s gone.

 

*

 

No one sees Bucky for two days after the fight. He’s locked in his room and the most anyone has gotten out of him are a couple texts to Steve. But between the distance he’d forced between you and the way he hurt you during the fight, you don’t know if you can bring yourself to care. There’s still a hand-shaped bruise on your neck.

Okay, so that’s a lie. You care a lot. You wonder endlessly what was going in his head that Bucky Barnes just totally shut down that day, and you think about what you can do to prevent it the future. The brain is just like a computer, right? And you’re the best hacker in the goddamn world. There’s gotta be something you can do.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by two figures coming into the common room. Bucky turns on his heel and tries to bolt the second he sees you, but Steve stops him with firm hands on his shoulders.

“Hey!” he calls to you, a grin spreading across his face. “This is perfect,” he says to Bucky, spinning him around and shoving him toward you. “Fix this!” is the last thing he says before he’s backing out of the room and ordering FRIDAY not to let anyone else in until you’re done.

Bucky looks scared, like a kicked puppy as he looks at you, not daring to come too close just yet. You eye him warily, twirling your knife between your fingers as you watch him.

“Hey,” you say, tone indifferent.

“Uh, hi,” Bucky replies, daring to take a couple of steps closer. His voice is quiet and rough as he avoids meeting your eyes. “Do you mind if, uh… Can I sit?” he asks, pointing to the empty spot next to you on the couch.

You give a little shrug and slip the knife into your boot, crossing your arms over your chest instead. “Was there something you wanted to say?” you ask as he sits down next to you.

Bucky fidgets and you can tell it’s definitely been a long time since he’s had a good night’s sleep. “Yeah,” he says, nodding mindlessly. “I, uh, first I, um, wanted to say sorry. When I… The other day, I hadn’t slept in almost a week and ever since… um, your solo mission… well, um, I, uh, I’ve kind of been trying to shut my emotions down.”

He’s still fidgeting, still refusing to meet your eye. You relax a little, though, lean back against the couch, let your hands fall to rest in your lap.

“I think my brain, like, went into auto mode or just shut down or something. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I would never-“ He sighs, shakes his head. “Anyway, I’m not good with.. with people or… my feelings, since… But Steve scolded me proper. I can’t just lock them away, it’s not the right way to handle them.”

“Well Steve’s right there, that’s for sure,” you say, tone gentle, and reach out to rest a hand on his knee.

“But look, the other night…” He shakes his head again, starts over, “You make me feel things I haven’t felt in seventy years… But that stuff, what they did to me, what happened the other day… that’s why I can’t, why _we_ can’t…”

“That only happened because you willingly flipped the switch,” you remind him, allowing yourself to get just annoyed enough not to sugar-coat it. “You turned James off. You _chose_ to do that.” He finally looks up at you and guilt is in his eyes and it softens you instantly. “Look, there’s only been…” A blush starts to bloom on your cheeks. “This would all be like new again for me too, you know?” you settle on. “But we can’t let fear stop us and I don’t care how stupid or cheesy that sounds.”

But Bucky sighs, resting his metal hand over yours on his knee. “I just… I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I- _We_ just can’t. I want to go back to being friends, but we can’t be more. I just can’t risk hurting you.”

And there it is, your heart breaking all over again. But you know what? Fine. As long as you get your Bucky back, you can deal with it.

 

*

 

A month goes by and Bucky’s back to his usual self. Things slip back into normalcy at the tower, everyone going off on little missions here and there but otherwise mostly just hanging out. Thor drops by and you finally get to meet the god. If you thought Bucky and Steve were big… holy shit. But he’s a gentle giant, really, all smiles and laughter and he has to work extra hard to keep you away from his crazy Asgardian liquor that gets even Steve tipsy.

But then a big one comes in, a mission like you’ve never been on yet, with more than half of the team coming along. Bucky, Scott, and Bruce are the only ones missing, and only because all three are off on their own excursions at the moment. A mission like this means Doctor Cho is coming along too, staying behind in the quinjet with her totally awesome, super fancy machines to repair any injuries on the ride home.

The mission goes as according to plan as any mission does. You kick some ass and save some people while Tony and Cap go after the big bads. What you don’t expect is to come across them yourself first. What you don’t expect is to have to face them while you wait for the rest of the team to find you. What you don’t expect are the metal rods protruding from your body in several spots, pinning you to the wall while you’re sure you’re bleeding out.

Everything after the second the team rushes into the room is a blur. You’re fading in and out of consciousness. One second you’re slouching against the wall, pain searing through your body like fire, the next you’re in Sam’s arms. But where are you? In the air? He doesn’t look so good himself, but better than you, you guess.

When you wake up again you’re inside the quinjet strapped into Doctor Cho’s machine. She’s examining Sam a few feet away, patching up wounds where he needs it. No one else is back yet, but you hear an explosion in the distance.

The next time, the pain isn’t quite so bad. You’re still strapped into the machine and it’s dark out. The plane is on autopilot. You know that because everyone is draped across various couches and each other, all asleep. Soundly, if not entirely okay.

“Hey, hey!” Clint is calling the next time your eyes blink open.

He runs over and grins down at you. The rest of the team is huddled around a StarkPad in the back. You can hear Bruce’s voice on the other end, sounding uneasy. You don’t really know. You can’t make out what he’s saying.

“There she is,” Clint teases, ruffling your hair. You’re still in the machine, but the pain is almost completely gone. “Guys! She’s up!” He turns back to you and there’s that grin. “Welcome back to the land of the living. We’re almost back to the Tower.”

You nod weakly and prop yourself up on your elbows. “What happened?” you ask as everyone is starting to rush over to check on you.

“You almost died. No big deal,” Tony says sarcastically, watching Doctor Cho switch between taking notes as she reads the monitors on the machine and examining exposed bits of your body through tears in your uniform.

Where the poles had been, you remember. Now there are just dark, welted scars. So this is what it feels like to be a super soldier, you guess. Or Wolverine or something. Oh, you start to wonder what the guys would say if you asked to meet Deadpool.

Dragging yourself from that tangent, you scrunch up your face a little as you push yourself up more, studying the marks on your torso, arms, legs. There’s one just above your hip and it almost matches Natasha’s identically, despite being caused by an entirely different weapon.

“Hey, look,” you say, glancing up to her and pointing at it, “twinsies.”

Nat snorts and rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. “Shut up,” she says.

 

*

 

The second the hangar door opens, Bucky flies into the quinjet.

“Where is she?” he asks, tone and eyes frantic. “Is she okay?”

“I’m okay,” you assure him, peeking your head out from where you’d been behind Steve and Rhodey. “Thanks to Sam and Doctor Cho over here,” you motion in their general direction.

“I’m okay too,” Sam calls out, tone flat. “In case you were worried.”

Bucky clears the distance between you in a fraction of a second and scoops you up into his arms. “You almost died!” he exclaims, ignoring the snickers and stares as he carries you off the jet.

You giggle and blush a little, wrapping your arms around his neck as he steps into the elevator. “I’m okay now though. I’m okay.”

“God,” Bucky breathes, kissing you gently before burying his face in the crook of your neck for the short ride down to your floor. “When I got back Bruce told me you’d been hurt _really_ bad, that it was really touch and go… I was so scared.” It’s like he hasn’t even realized he’d done it.

“Well I’m here now,” you say, nuzzling your cheek against his. “I’m fine. All healed up…. Well, mostly.”

Bucky carries you into your apartment and to your room. He lays you down gently on the bed and only then does he take in the torn uniform you’re still wearing. “Here, let me get you some clothes,” he offers, starting to look through drawers to find you some pajamas.

“Bucky,” you say softly, chewing lightly on your lip.

He turns to you quickly, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?” he asks. “Do you need anything else?”

A blush starts to bloom over your cheeks as you smile up at him, shaking your head a little as you pat the bed next to you. “Come lay with me?” you ask.

He starts toward the bed, but hesitates right at the edge, staring down at you as he hands you the clean pair of sweats and tank top. “I don’t know…” he trails off, but you can see in his eyes that he wants to, wants to take you in his arms and keep you safe.

“You kissed me on the elevator,” you tell him. You’re not sure if it’s almost dying or what, but you’re feeling bold again. You slip out of your uniform right in front of him, only waiting until you’ve got the tank top on before slipping off your bra.

Bucky gulps visibly as he tries to make himself avert his eyes. Instead his catch yours and they stay locked there. “Did I?” he asks, blushing a little himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize…”

“Don’t apologize.” You repeat the words you’d said the first time, “I liked it.” You pat the empty spot next to you on the bed again.

He hesitates for another long moment, lost in his own thoughts even as his eyes take in every curve of your body. But this time, when the switch flips in his head, it’s in the right direction.

He’s climbing onto the bed, crawling over your body before your hands can even start shaking. And boy do they. He’s hoovering over you, those piercing, icy eyes boring down into your own as he whispers, “And if I wanted to do it again?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” you breathe, letting your fingers dance up his stomach and chest and over his shoulders.

And then his lips are crashing into yours before you can even think about it, your shaking hands bunching in the fabric of his shirt.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling back only briefly before his lips are on yours again, teeth tugging gently at your bottom lip.

You suck in a surprised breath and he takes advantage, licking into your mouth as he shifts all of his weight to his metal arm, his other hand sliding down your side, down your thigh, then back up, under your shirt, and stopping just below your breasts.

You can’t help it, your legs slip open wider and your head tips back, exposing your neck as you suck in a shuddery breath. Your whole body is trembling now as he sucks and bites gently at your neck, moaning into the skin and leaving little hickies this time, claiming you.

He stops just long enough to tug his shirt off, then goes right back to leaving love bites all along your neck and shoulders.  Your heart is racing as his bare chest presses down on you, soft moans escaping your lips as you scratch up his back and run your fingers through his hair.

His hips press down into yours and you can feel his hard cock through his jeans. You feel like you’re going to shake right out of your skin with desire and nerves, and he notices. He doesn’t lift his hips, but he does stop leaving marks along your skin. Instead, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and asks quietly, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, eyes squeezing shut as you feel that blush returning – full force and all the way down your chest this time. “I just…”

And at the trepidation in your voice he stops completely, pulls back just enough to look down at you.

“Hey,” he soothes, hand slipping from under your shirt to cup your cheek gently. “Look at me. We can stop, if you don’t want to... I won’t be upset or anything.”

You take a deep breath, your hands now resting on his shoulders as you finally work up the courage to look up at him. “No, I want to,” you assure him, looping one of your legs around his waist and pressing your hips up into his. “I just… haven’t.. really..”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before,” he says and you can tell he’s fighting off a smirk.

“I have!” you pout just a little, but even as you do a giggle threatens to bubble up from your throat. “I just… not a lot… And not in a long time,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging yourself up to hide your face in his neck.

“Awh babydoll,” he croons, and that is all Sergeant Barnes right there. You recognize it from the videos you used to have to watch in history class. “’M gonna make this real sweet for you, okay baby?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! I really hope you guys liked it!
> 
> Comments and kudos mean the world to me!<3 <3 <3
> 
> And, as always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://worrisomeme.tumblr.com) ^_^


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